


Heedless of the Boy

by mahoni



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-24
Updated: 2007-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:45:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahoni/pseuds/mahoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tries to get some sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heedless of the Boy

There was only one bed. Sam didn't care.

The switch from summer heat to excessive air conditioning made him shiver as he staggered into the room. He dropped his duffel along the way, and only stopped when his shins hit the edge of the bed and he fell forward onto it. Somewhere in the vicinity of the door Dean was cussing; something about the smart-ass at the front desk and "what the _fuck_ because we do _not_ look _gay_." Then Dean said,

"Sam. Dude. Don't fall asleep, I'm gonna get another room."

Sam twitched his hand in what he hoped looked like a thumbs-up. He told the darkness behind his eyes that he'd been awake for three days straight, so he could certainly wait another ten minutes before falling asleep. No problem.

"Sam. Sammy. _Sam_. Crap. Are you asleep?"

The darkness answered, very firmly.

*

An elbow jabbing him in the neck woke Sam up the first time. He floundered, half-asleep, and for a startling moment gravity seemed to go on the fritz. Then he hit the floor.

He lay there for while, disoriented in the near-total darkness, until he remembered _motel_, and realized _bed. Fell off_.

He hauled himself up and started to crawl back onto the bed, but an unmoving lump was in his way. He reached for the pillow and found a fuzzy head there. A hand swung out and slapped his away, and he knew without needing to see that Dean was sprawled out in the middle of the bed on his stomach - the only bed in the room, Sam also remembered now - because that's where Dean always slept. Sam often wondered if that's why Dean rarely spent the night with the girls he went home with, if they kicked him out for hogging the bed.

Sam shoved; Dean didn't budge. Sam shoved again, harder, not thinking anything beyond _bastard_ and _need sleep_; he didn't hear Dean mutter at him or notice Dean begin to shift as he gave him another push. He might have heard the thump and the slurred "god damn son of a bitch, Sam," but all he knew was that there was suddenly room on the bed for him again. He dug himself under the covers and fell back to asleep.

*

The next time Sam woke up, he had the sensation of having gone suddenly from comfortably warm to uncomfortably cold. He blinked muzzily up at the ceiling, whose nubby texture was fraught with tiny shadows. Sickly light poured out of the bathroom; there was Dean, at the sink, splashing water on his face.

Sam rolled over and pulled the covers over his head. He wanted to go back to sleep. He was still tired, but if he stayed awake much longer he wouldn't be nearly tired enough to sleep well.

Dean had caught some catnaps during the spring-heeled jack job, but Sam had not. When they weren't out talking to people, checking out the scenes of the attacks, or staking out places they thought the creature might strike, he'd buried his nose in books and the internet, looking for as much information as he could find about the killings and the history of the spring-heeled jack. Maybe he hadn't had to do that, and maybe it turned out they didn't use even half the information he found. Maybe he'd been a little slower and sloppier during the fight with the thing than he would have been if he'd slept some.

But, whatever. Neither of them had gotten hurt, and at least now he could be sure of getting some good, hard, dreamless sleep.

Or, he could if Dean would turn off the damn light.

Sam was drifting by the time the light went off and Dean crawled back in bed.

"Stop stealing the covers. Gigantic --" Dean tugged on the blanket "- freak of nature."

Sam let the covers slide over him just a bit, and then grabbed a handful, twisted it around his fist and shoved his fist under his side so he wouldn't lose any more.

"Oh yeah, thanks so much, I'll be cozy warm now. Asshole."

Sam grinned into the pillow, gloating as he dozed off again.

*

The nightmares woke him last, horror and fear and grief snapping through him like a cold fire. He came awake gasping. His heart raced, and for an endless moment he couldn't move.

A bare thread of sunlight edged the curtains. It blurred as he stared at it and waited for his heart to stop pounding. His chest ached, but he made himself breathe.

Finally he pulled a shaking hand out from under his pillow to rub the sleep from his eyes. He didn't know how long he'd slept, but it didn't matter. He was done sleeping for now. He thought about getting up, standing in the shower and washing the sweat and dreams off of him, but the room was calm, nearly silent except for the pinging of the air conditioner and the sound of his brother sleeping, and Dean's back was warm. He listened for a while, until he was absolutely sure Dean was really asleep and wasn't faking. Then he shifted backwards, pressing his back up against Dean's until he could feel the curve of Dean's spine and the points of his shoulder blades, until the warmth between them solidified into comfort.

Sam stayed there and counted each breath Dean took to drown out the distant wail of his dreams, until Dean woke up.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Emily Dickinson's poem XXIX:
> 
>  
> 
> THE NEAREST dream recedes, unrealized.   
>  The heaven we chase   
>  Like the June bee   
>  Before the school-boy   
>  Invites the race;   
>  Stoops to an easy clover--   
> Dips--evades--teases--deploys;   
>  Then to the royal clouds   
>  Lifts his light pinnace   
>  Heedless of the boy   
> Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.
> 
> Homesick for steadfast honey,   
>  Ah! the bee flies not   
> That brews that rare variety.


End file.
